5th Summer
by Hyorene
Summary: Summer. Harry is facing a trial after saving Dudley. His secret friend Draco Malfoy invites him into his house. Things start going wrong when Draco's parents come home unexpectedly, but that's only the beginning of a summer which will be everyone's worst.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: 5th Summer

**Author**: Hyorene

**Rating**: R (Not for audience under 15 years of age)

**Fandom**: Harry Potter

**Genre**: fantasy, AU-ish, friendship, slash, drama, action, death

**Language**: English

**Disclaimer**: Events are based on the summer of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix which is written by J.K Rowling. All the characters are by J.K Rowling, except for possible OCs who are by me. Written for entertainment purposes only, I won't get paid for writing this or publishing this. All rights of copying or editing are reserved.

**Summary**: Summer. Harry is facing a trial after he saved Dudley from dementors. His secret friend Draco Malfoy invites him into his house while his parents are away to figure out how to help Harry with his trial. Things start going wrong when Draco's parents come home unexpectedly, but that's only the beginning of a summer which will be everyone's worst.

**A/N**: My first Potter fic ever to be published yet not the first one I have written ! I don't remember how I got this idea, but to be honest, I happen to like it and if you don't like action and slash and twists in plots, please escourt yourself out. This story takes place in the summer vacation of the fifth book, yet it does NOT follow the plot, nor is it an alternative version of the story by J.K Rowling. Anyway, while writing this story, I decided not to pay so high attention on the details, though I usually do, so if there are couple of mistakes, please forgive me. I just want to have fun with this (although the plot may not be very hilarious).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy ! And if you do, leave a review, because without those there won't ever be more parts :(

CHAPTER ONE

Summer is by far the most anticipated season out of the four of them. No school, warm weather, no worries and enough time in your hands to do anything under the shining sun. If you don't enjoy sunshine and warmth, you can stay in your air-conditioned flat and chill for couple of months. You can stay up late, watch the sun set and rise again after a while which seems so short. You can meet with your friends. You can eat loads of ice cream. Swim. Hike. Lay under the sun. Play volleyball on the beach. Sniff freshly cut lawn. Summer is the time of any teenager's life.

Any but not Harry Potter. Harry didn't like summer. He didn't have anything against it as a season; he'd love to lay back and enjoy the beautiful days and everlasting warmth, but that's not what summer was for him. To him, summer wasn't a synonym for 'freedom' rather than it meant time with the Dursleys, which were the opposite of freedom. Harry hated the Dursleys with every cell he had got, and the feeling was very mutual.

Just when Harry thought his summers couldn't get any worse, this summer topped them all being worse than ever. Surprisingly, it was because of a Dursley, whose life Harry was stupid enough to save. He had used magic in the presence of a muggle - that muggle being his obese cousin Dudley - against a dementor in an area high on muggle population while being a minor. And the Ministry of Magic was very strict with illegal use of magic. Only shortly after Harry and vomiting Dudley had arrived home, an owl had swooped in and dropped a letter addressed to be to Harry Potter, Privet Drive 4, Living Room. And now, two days later, Vernon Dursley had found that envelope "laying around" - in reality it was in Harry's room, under his pillow where no one would ever look, but Vernon Dursley wasn't a man who respected Harry's privacy. Now he was reading it in the living room carefully, his greedy eyes wolfing down every word with great pleasure.

"Is this right," he started with held-back joy in his voice as he read the paper, "they're _suing _you?"

Harry decided not to answer, and this was just the answer Uncle Vernon needed. His face twisted to an ugly smile.

"Petunia!" he called, still looking at Harry and soon a bony, horse-faced lady trotted to the scenery, polishing a glass with a rug.

"The boy is getting sued by his people," Uncle Vernon told her. Aunt Petunia looked horrified; yet Harry knew she wasn't afraid of what might happen to him, Harry, but what her own family would have to bear with that kind of reputation.

"Why?" she asked, as if she really cared.

"Because he caused harm to our son," Uncle Vernon answered, sounding happier than he ever had been in his life. "Now that's what I call _justice_."

"That's not what it says," Harry mumbled, but knew his argument was invalid in that household.

"It says so right here!" said Uncle Vernon and shook the paper in front of Harry, then took it closer to his pig-like face and read aloud; "_Illegal use of magic in the presence of a_... mu... mud..."

"A muggle," Harry said and grabbed the letter back. Under normal circumstances Uncle Vernon would have probably sued him himself for doing such a violent act, but now he was too happy to care.

"And I didn't cause any harm to Dudley," Harry continued. "If I hadn't been there, he would now be a soulless piece of human waste... not that it would be any different from the usual."

Harry knew insulting Dudley in front of his father was the worst thing one could say to Vernon Dursley. His thick black moustache shivered from anger as he leaned closer to Harry so that Harry could smell breakfast bacon in his breath.

"I hope they put you in prison, boy," Uncle Vernon hissed, staring at him with his tiny eyes. "That's where we should've put you as soon as we found you drooling from our doorstep."

Harry was too used to threats to take it personally anymore. He turned around, squeezing the letter in his hand and walked upstairs to his room which used to be Dudley's. He didn't crave for Uncle Vernon's acceptance the slightest bit, so it didn't make a difference what he thought of Harry. Harry sighed and fell down on his back on his bed, staring at the white ceiling. He was going to court. To wizard court. He didn't know what it was like, and quite frankly he didn't care to know. Who was going to stand up for him? Did they have lawyers in the wizard court? Where could Harry find one? He had no idea.

Harry's door slammed open and Vernon Dursley marched inside, as impolite as ever.

"What?" Harry asked, and as soon as that irritated tone came out he knew his uncle was going to cling onto it like a bat.

"Don't you take that tone with me, you ungrateful boy," he grumbled. "I came just to remind you that tomorrow we - we meaning naturally me, Petunia and Dudley - are leaving for our family camping trip to the woods far away from here. _You_, of course, are not invited." Uncle Vernon looked joyful again. "We'll be away for a week. You stay here, keep the places clean and don't even think about hosting some kind of... party here while we're away."

"Yes," said Harry as politely as he could. Uncle Vernon took off and closed the door behind him. Harry was glad they didn't want him with them. He didn't even want to come. A week with Dursleys in a place where there are no people anywhere? Sounded like a nightmare to Harry.

Something knocked to Harry's window sharply and he got up. A white owl was waiting outside in the sunny afternoon. Seeing Hedwig was always a pleasant event in Harry's summer - one of the few - because it meant getting mail from people he actually cared about. He opened the window for his owl, who swooped inside and settled on her cage. She dropped _the Daily Prophet_ down on the floor and stretched her leg out so that Harry could easily untie the envelope she was carrying. Harry recognized the handwriting on top of the envelope and quickly tore it off Hedwig's leg.

"Thank you," he said to his owl, petted her and then sat on his bed. He opened the envelope and pulled the letter out.

"_Harry,_

_How are you doing? It's been a long time. Seems like we actually aren't talking to each other... I heard about your trial from Dad. Seems pretty bad. Have you any idea of what you're going to do?_

_Mom and Dad are away for couple of weeks, don't ask where, even I don't know. Would you like to come to my house for some while? Maybe we could try to sort this trial thing out together. I can maybe help you with that. You know, with Dad in the ministry and all._

_Let me know as soon as possible. I can come and pick you up. Just tell me when the muggles are away._

_Reply soon,_

_Draco"_

Harry smiled. Draco Malfoy was a person whom everybody thought Harry hated - Ron, Hermione, their parents, Malfoy's friends and his parents. Literally everybody. Harry was certain that if they ever figured out the truth, they would be shocked for life. Draco was Harry's friend, and he had been his friend since the very first day in school. Harry still wasn't sure how it had happened, it just kind of did. The reason why Harry hadn't told anyone, not even his best friends Ron and Hermione was because they disliked Malfoy so much Harry was sure they would leave him as soon as he told he was actually friends with their enemy. Draco disliked Hermione and Ron as well whereas Harry disliked Draco's friends.

Other people around them was what made it hard for them to keep in touch. It was easy to hate each other in front of everyone, so easy that sometimes they just forgot to be nice to each other. Yet there never was real hatred between them two. Just very much of complicated friendship.

Harry didn't hesitate as he reached for a fresh piece of parchment and quill, dipped its tip to ink and started to write.

"_Hi,_

_Everything's fine, except for the trial. I'd love to come to your house. The muggles are leaving tomorrow and won't be back for a week. What do you mean by picking me up? By Floo Powder?_

_I hope you're well. Let's talk more once I get there. _

_Harry"_

Harry rolled it neatly and put a seal on it to keep it closed. Hedwig flew to him swiftly and stretched her leg out.

"Take this to the Malfoy's house," Harry said to her and stroked her. "Be careful no one sees you."

Hedwig hooted as concord and took off from the open window. Harry looked after her as long as he could see her, flying across the sky to horizon. Friendship was so different with Ron and Hermione than it was with Draco Malfoy. Every time Harry saw Ron and Hermione it was like seeing old friends, which was true; they would exchange highlights and rocks bottoms of each other's summers (Harry usually had the least highlights) and then everything was back to the usual talking and studying. But with Malfoy, Harry never knew what he had been up to. It was like meeting a new person every time.

Harry could easily use Malfoy to get more valuable information about Voldemort's whereabouts, but he couldn't be that cruel; if the Dark Lord himself would find out there was a informer inside, Malfoy would suffer death by killing spell. Therefore, they never talked about Voldemort or about any subject near him.

Suddenly another owl flew inside and I recognized it to be Errol, an old owl of the Weasleys. He stumbled on Harry's desk and Harry quickly hurried to take the piece of parchment from his leg, rolled it open.

"_Hello Harry,_

_Dad told about your trial... Mum is freaking out. She wants you here immediately. Hermione is here, she wants to see you again. I do too! Mum says she won't take no as an answer. I decided to write you beforehand anyway._

_I'll be excepting your positive answer,_

_Ron"_

Harry grimaced. He couldn't possibly to go to the Burrow where Ron lived with his family now that he already agreed to go to Malfoy's. And quite frankly, he rather went to Malfoy's place since he had never been there before, unlike in the Burrow where he practically lived every summer.

Harry decided it was best to answer right away, so he took a quill and another piece of parchment.

"_Ron,_

_That's nice of you, but unfortunately I have another plans. I'm going on a trip with the muggles, I'll be away for a week. Tell your Mum not to worry about me, I'll be fine... as fine as I can be with the Dursleys._

_Tell your family and Hermione I said hi._

_Harry"_

Harry tied the letter to Errol's leg and sent him off. He felt bad about lying to Ron, but there was no way he could ever tell the truth. It was too late; after all, he had lied about his and Malfoy's true relationship for five years now. Maybe if the trial would fail and Harry would be forced to give up his wand and all connections to wizard world, he could send Ron a final letter of truth.

Harry yawned and stretched his arm high up over his head, toward the white ceiling the afternoon sunlight was embracing. He had a feeling this summer might be just a tad worse than the summers before had been.

**A/N2: R2R - Remember To Review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to upload chapter 2! I forgot all about this fic... I promise to be more active in the future ;)**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

Malfoy didn't reply to Harry's letter and it was making him insane. Harry kept glancing at the clock and spending time in the living room by Dursleys' fireplace which was starting to make Uncle Vernon suspicious.

"Are some nutters going to burst into _my _house again?" he kept questioning, in attempt to sound threatening, but came across rather frightened. Harry denied this as innocently as he possibly could. The Dursleys were usually stupid enough not to smell anything fishy, and so they were now. Their lack of brain cells was the only quality Harry was grateful of.

Clock kept ticking on and on and afternoon started to fall slowly. Harry became more and more anxious as the Dursleys weren't showing any signs of leaving and Draco could step out of their fireplace at any moment. Finally they started packing their baggage to Uncle Vernon's car and soon the trunk was filled with camping equipment.

"Remember to keep the house clean," Uncle Vernon told Harry who still sat put in an arm chair. "If I see one teeny tiny piece of litter anywhere in my house, we'll send you to some camp where you can learn some manners. Understood?"

"Yes," Harry answered, hoping they would leave quickly. Uncle Vernon kept on rambling and Harry, who wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible, agreed to his every request, which included washing the windows, lots of vacuuming and changing the curtains. After a period of time which felt like a year but ended up being only ten minutes, all the Dursleys were in their car and drove away. Harry was sure they wanted to leave just as badly as Harry wanted them to go.

And their car couldn't disappear from sight any moment too soon; right after the brake lights were invisible, Harry, who had been watching out of the window, heard a swoosh from the fireplace, green flames flashed and he turned around to face a huge mess of ash on the floor. Draco Malfoy climbed out of the hearth, tiding up his cape and blond hair which had a hue of gray on it due ash.

"Merlin, do you ever clean that place?" he asked, sprinkling tiny pieces of soot from his hair.

"Well, considering the Dursleys don't often transport from one place to another using it... no, we don't," Harry grinned. Malfoy rolled his eyes to his dry sense of humor yet smiled.

"You could have informed me, though," Harry muttered. "I was worried to death that you'll arrive when the muggles were still around."

"Luckily I didn't," Draco said. He looked around the living room of which carpet Harry felt sorry for; Aunt Petunia had changed the carpet to a light yellow one only last week and been very cautious of it. She had even ordered Dudley to take a shower before he'd land his dirty foot on it. Now it was barely recognizable to once been yellow. It looked like any carpet would look after someone dumped a load of soot on it.

"Sorry about that," Draco said as he too was looking at the mess. "I would cast a cleaning spell on it, but you know... I'm not that stupid."

Harry scowled at him, though he knew Draco was just teasing him. Draco smirked and took a small bag of Floo Powder under his cloak. "Shall we?"

Harry knew he was going to have a huge cleaning session once he'd return, but he didn't want to think about it right now. Draco took a handful of powder from the bag and stepped inside the sooty hearth. He said loud and clear the destination, which was Malfoys' Manor, and vanished with another swoosh and flash of green fire. After he was gone, Harry took his turn. He felt excited to finally see what kind of place his friend lived in. Draco had often told him about his house (he was kind of smug about it, but Harry guessed it was just his nature), but Harry had never seen it himself.

Harry threw the powder to the fireplace and watched how the emerald green flames took over. He walked inside. "Malfoys' Manor!"

Previous accidents with Floo Powder had taught him to speak as clearly as possible. He was thrown into a hustle of fireplaces and green swooshes, until his feet met solid ground only few seconds later. This fireplace was much more spacey, clean and comfortable, which showed it wasn't only meant for bringing warmth to dark nights.

When Harry stepped out of the fireplace, he first thought he was in a set of a horror film. Everything was dark, though it was only around six o'clock and sun was still up. But that place with its high ceiling, ancient looking few furniture pieces and sealed windows, was dark and gloomy. Threatening. Draco was waiting for him by the fireplace casually - to him being there was, obviously, nothing new.

"So, what do you think?" he asked.

"I... Wow," Harry said after he thought about his words long and hard. Malfoy laughed; apparently Harry's reaction had been what he had been anticipating for.

"Not everyday life you see a house like this, is it now, Potter?" he asked, sounding much as if there were tens of Hogwarts students watching them two argue.

"It really isn't," Harry said, "and it's not everyday life to live in a house like this. Unless you happen to be a vampire."

Draco cocked his head backwards, crossing his arms over his chest. "And how can you be so sure of that I'm not?"

"Because I know you," Harry answered with a challenging raise of brow. Draco's face darkened a bit and he turned his back at him.

"Yeah," he said quietly. Harry couldn't hold back his laughter so he let it burst all out. His laughter echoed in the almost empty hall they were standing in.

"Why so dramatic?" Harry asked and laid his hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco's head turned a little to look over at him from the corner of his eye. He didn't answer, but took Harry's another hand by the wrist.

"Are you hungry?" he asked and without waiting for Harry's response, he grasped his wrist tighter and leaded him through the mansion which seemed like a labyrinth without any logic order of rooms until they were standing in a dining hall. It was a typical, dramatic room with high ceiling, cold stone walls, dark wooden floor and a long, shiny table good enough for 24 people. Two silver chandeliers hung from the ceiling over the table which was made out of the same wood as the floor, and on one side of the room there was a very detailed robust fireplace which along with the chandeliers lit itself up when the two of them walked in.

It didn't take even ten minutes until some anonymous house-elves had arranged a fiesta for them. As Harry took his seat by other end of the table, he could hear the elves whispering in hushed voices his name to each other, their big bat-like ears flapping as their heads turned toward him. Draco sat to the other end of the table somewhat solemnly, making the occasion seem much more formal than it really was. After all, they were just two 15-year-old friends meeting up. Yet Harry knew this was the way Draco liked it.

They ate chatting casually about nothing and everything, but neither of them even went near the subject they actually had to talk about. Harry thought it would be because neither of them wanted there to be a reason for their meeting. The truth was, they never met without a reason. At school they couldn't be seen together other than fighting or throwing hexes at each other, and outside school they rarely saw each other at all. They were friends, but they weren't close friends. That was why their meeting was little bit on the awkward side.

"Ron asked me to come to his home for the summer right after you asked me," Harry said to fill another pressuring silence. He was glad they were sitting so far apart after all, so continuous smalltalk wasn't required.

"Yeah? What did you tell him?"

"I said I'll be going on a trip with the Dursleys. As if they wanted me to come ruin their trip," Harry said and Draco chuckled.

"Well, I'm glad you're here instead."

Awkward silence.

"What did you tell the muggles?" Draco asked and stuck his fork into the last piece of apple pie.

"I said I'll stay home," Harry answered. He had already finished eating and the elves were now collecting his empty plates into piles and carrying them to the kitchen. When they noticed Draco was done as well, they hurried to him and wished him a pleasant repose. Draco stood up yawning. Harry glanced at a great old clock on the wall and was little amazed to see it was already eight. They had eaten for two hours. Time really flied.

Draco gave him a tour around their huge house, not bothering to go through every room. He showed Harry the common room, how to get to the bathroom which had an amazing massive stone bathtub with engraved snakes. It reminded the one in prefects' bathroom with all the golden taps surrounding it. Draco also showed him the dungeons, which his father and mother called "the cellar", though it was far away from normal cellars.

Lastly Draco took Harry to Draco's own room. He opened the door for him and Harry found himself staring at a room which was dark and large as every room in that mansion was. It had the same dark wooden floor, the same stone walls, and the furniture consisted of a massive canopy bed which was the size of four regular double-beds combined. The sheets were, however, pure white, and seemed to glow in the gloomy darkness. The room also included a highly detailed dresser with golden handles and couple of decorative chairs. Heavy midnight blue curtains were hanging over the windows. Yet another massive chandelier was hanging from the ceiling which wasn't as high as elsewhere in the mansion. The whole room was just so different compared to anything Harry had ever seen, it was so strong and threatening yet calming and beautiful. With the glowing white it captured his every single piece of attention.

"What do you think? I decorated it myself," Draco said, but by the tone of his voice it was clear he wasn't serious. Harry couldn't do nothing but just stare. When Draco went to his bed and sat down, Harry too dared to take some steps inside. It was so quiet.

"You'll be sleeping in the guest room... well, one of them," Draco said. "You can decide which one you want."

"Whatever is nearest your room, I don't feel like walking alone around here," Harry said. Draco gave a half-smile.

"Fair enough. The nearest guest room is two doors away from mine. I can show it to you if -"

"Draco," Harry said and came to sit next to him on the bed which was probably big enough for Weasley's whole family. He looked at the blond boy sitting next to him through the dim lit air. "I think we should talk about the trial now."

Draco nodded and seemed somewhat relieved he didn't have to be the one to bring it up. "Well, I haven't given it much thought yet, but -"

Suddenly he cut himself off. His pale face turned ever whiter and something turned around in Harry's stomach by the sight of it.

"What is it?" Harry whispered but Draco rose his hand to silent him. He listened for a while and now Harry heard it too; voices, somewhere, footsteps drawing nearer. Draco looked at Harry, but Harry got the hint on his own; he jumped off the bed and went round, crouched down on the floor so he wasn't visible from the door. Draco quickly grabbed a book from the nightstand to look like he was doing something and crawled in the middle of the bed, laying down comfortably.

Harry listened on the floor for a while. With a cheek pressed against the floor he could see to the door, which soon opened with a soft creek and two pairs of legs came to sight, one pair covered with a long black cloak and the other pair wearing black high heels.

"Father? Mother?" Harry heard Draco say. "What are you doing here?"

"The Ministry of Magic ordered us back home immediately, son," said Lucius Malfoy and Harry saw him taking few steps forward, "because of Potter's trial."

"You have a part in it?" Draco asked casually.

"Not exactly, but I have contacts who do," said Lucius evilly. "And due those precious contacts I can make sure Potter will get his wand taken away and he won't be able to return Hogwarts." No one made a sound. "Your father is a powerful man, Draco, and the Dark Lord will appreciate him greatly if he succeeds."

"Draco," said Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. "Working with this issue is like walking on thin ice, so you must not say anything about it to anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Draco. Listening him to talk with his parents Harry felt sad. Harry and the Dursleys didn't get along, but Dursleys weren't Harry's real parents; Aunt Petunia had been his mother's sister, and not very close one. But Draco was now talking with the people whose blood was his blood and flesh was his flesh, and there was no love, no caring, nothing which would even hint to a conversation between parents and their only son.

"Good boy," said Lucius, came closer to the bed momentarily and Harry got himself ready to roll under the bed. Lucius didn't approach anymore, but turned around and walked to the door. "Good night, son." Just when he was about to close the door, a scream echoed somewhere down below and Harry flinched.

"What was that?" Draco asked slowly.

"It's just a muggle the Dark Lord ordered us to capture," said Lucius as if he was talking about his trip to grocery store. "He will be serving us until our Lord orders else. Don't waste time thinking about him, his life is not worth of anything. Sleep now, Draco."

"Good night," said Draco. Lucius closed the door and Harry got up slowly from the floor. He sat on the edge of Draco's bed, rubbing the sides of his head.

"I should probably leave as soon as the coast is clear," Harry mumbled. He had been excited about spending time with Draco, and now he had to go already...

"Are you insane? Now you most definitely can't leave!" Draco said. "My father is plotting to get your wand taken away. We need to find a way to prevent it from happening now more than ever, and you're going home?"

"How are we exactly going to do that?"

"We're working on that," Draco said. "I'm pretty good at talking."

"Your father doesn't seem to favour you much."

"But I am their only son," Draco pointed out, smirked softly. "Besides, I have a plan."

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: If you're interested in continuation, review !**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: New chapter ! We are getting closer to the part where all the action starts ;) Enjoy !**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

The next morning Harry woke up before dawn; or to be more specific, he was woken up by silent whispers. Harry opened his eyes and faced a dark room and blurry face of Draco Malfoy, sitting next to him on the king-size bed.

"Finally," Draco sighed and crawled out of the bed. "Come on, we have to go."

"Where?" Harry asked. He rolled a foot to right to be able to reach for the nightstand. He put his glasses on. He was in Draco's room, because after his parents' sudden arrival Harry obviously couldn't settle himself into any guest room. Harry had offered to sleep on the floor, because thought of him sharing a bed – though the mentioned bed was the same size as Harry's room back in Privet Drive – with Draco was uncomfortable, but the blond had only laughed at his "childish nature" and told him to sleep in the bed. So Harry had, and quite frankly, he had enjoyed it; the bed was amazing and due its ridiculous size it felt like he was alone.

"Just hurry up," Draco said and Harry crawled out of the bed as well. Both of them had slept with all their clothes on to take down the awkwardness even a hint, so Harry was quickly ready. He tried to tame his hair which was, as usual, wildly sticking itself to every possible direction, but it was no use, so he just let it be. Draco's usually flawless hair had too marks of sleeping. Draco grabbed his cloak from a chair and threw it on.

Draco opened the door slowly and quietly, and then stuck his head out to see if there was anyone around. Seemingly not, so Harry followed him out. The manor was even creepier at dawn than it was at night; every little sound was dead, the floor creaked hauntingly under their feet as they passed hallway after hallway on their way somewhere. Neither one of them said anything, Harry didn't even think about it; thought of Lucius Malfoy waking up and spotting Harry Potter strolling around his house would lead to nothing good.

Finally Harry realized their way was leading down to the cellar. He wanted to ask, but decided to remain silent anyway. Draco stopped dead before the stairs leading downstairs and Harry nearly ran into his back. Draco silently took out his wand under his cape and started creeping down. Harry followed him couple of steps behind. So many questions were spinning in his mind that he wouldn't have even known where to begin if he had had the chance to ask them. Draco halted at the end of the stairs, stretched his neck forward and over his shoulder Harry saw a figure, sleeping on the floor, back turned at them.

"Stupefy!" Draco whispered and a flash of red burst from the tip of his wand and hit the figure's back. It flinched but didn't look any different than before the spell had hit him. Harry followed Draco when he opened the door to the cell and they both went to the limp body of the muggle.

He was a male about in his thirties. He was average weight, quite tall, had short golden curly hair, high nose and little thicker lips than average men have. He was typically handsome yet looked sophisticated with his vest and blouse. Harry wondered why on earth Voldemort would want this poor muggle to be captured. Maybe he had just been in a wrong place at the wrong time. Draco crouched down, took his hand to his hair and ripped couple hairs off. If Harry too had been a muggle, this would have been quite odd thing to do to an unconscious person, but now he knew exactly where Draco was going with it.

"Are you serious?" Harry asked on a low voice when Draco took a tiny bottle of transparent liquid under his cloak.

"If we're going to keep you here, this is the easiest way," Draco muttered and opened the cork with a soft plop.

"Easiest? What about _safety_? This man is a muggle whom Voldemort wants. What if he comes to take him while I'm him? That's a nice surprise for him," Harry hissed. He didn't like this at all.

"Don't worry, he isn't going to just _burst _in here, I know it," Draco said and dropped the hair to the liquid. It turned to crimson red, reminding either blood or very deep cranberry juice. Harry pointed this out to Draco, who just snorted. "Merlin, Harry, quit being a little girl. So you have to clean something or get some pumpkin juice for Dad? Is it really that bad?"

"I don't reckon that would be all… No offence, but it's your dad we're talking about," Harry muttered.

"Trust me," Draco said and handed him the bottle. "You won't get killed."

Oddly, dying wasn't what Harry was afraid of when he rose the bottle to his lips and gulped it down. He remembered the disgusting taste of overcooked cabbage when he had turned into Goyle few years ago, but this stranger tasted mildly like honey. Quite pleasant taste, actually. Harry felt burning under his skin when it began to change shape. His skin bubbled; he grew taller and taller, and was now taller than Draco. His black hair changed color and curled, his skin tanned a notch. His clothes felt extremely tight and ripped from shoulders and thighs, and Harry was very grateful the muggle was skinny rather than muscular. When his transformation was completed, Draco looked at him with approval. Then they simply moved the real muggle aside to a cabinet (Harry noticed he was surprisingly strong), took his clothes and left the poor man with only his underclothes on.

"Only bad side here," Draco said, "is that you have to stay here in the cellar when you're not needed in the house." When Harry scowled him and was about to say something, Draco continued: "But don't worry, I'll take care of you when my parents are not around. You won't starve to death, I promise."

"Fine," said Harry with the muggle's voice which was little lazy. He had a Scottish accent which he couldn't help. Draco waved him goodbye and left. When he was gone, Harry began changing his clothes to the muggle's slowly. He was wondering what kind of guy the muggle was. If he had family, if they were missing him. If he had a job. Harry was pretty sure he had been in greatest schools; he found thinking very effortless and easy. What kind of house he lived in? He was seemingly wealthy; at least he had nice clothes and the same kind of expensive watch Uncle Vernon had once got from his boss for Christmas few years ago. Strangely enough, Harry thought about his name last. He wondered if Draco's parents knew it. If Voldemort knew it. If anyone knew it.

The whole day Harry was sitting in the cellar by himself, sometimes walking around a little to fully master his new body which was at least a head taller than he actually was. Harry tried to memorize the story he had made up for his new identity in order to not come across suspicious if he would be questioned, but found his thoughts slipping over and over again to his upcoming trial. He still had no information about anything. It was two weeks away, but he would have felt much better if someone cared enough to inform him about it. Now, living as a stranger in Malfoys' Manor, Harry was quite positive he wouldn't get any information any time soon.

The day was painfully boring, and Harry found himself wishing one of the Malfoys would come and order him to do something, but no one did. Soon it was half past midnight and Harry's stomach was growling angrily. No food in the whole day surely had its price. Harry felt anger towards Draco. He had promised to feed him, yet failed to deliver. That brat. Maybe he really was not on Harry's side.

"Harry?" Harry suddenly heard a familiar whisper and he got up and stumbled his way to the gate. Speak of the devil... Draco was peering through the darkness, carrying a tray which had a bowl of soup and piece of bread on it. Harry was quite positive that that was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I'm here," he said as if he could be anywhere else and Draco came to the gate.

"Here, this is all I've got," he said, opened the gate and Harry took the tray with pleasure.

"Thanks," he smiled and dug into the piece of bread to calm his growling stomach down. "So? Anything I should know about?"

"Well, not really," Draco said vaguely and closed the gate between them again. "My parents don't know anything of him. Not his name or anything."

"That's good news," Harry said, mouth full of bread.

"I guess," Draco said. They were silent for a moment, both unable to come up with anything to say. It was getting uncomfortable, so Draco cleared his throat and took a step back.

"See you tomorrow, I'll bring you breakfast," he said and turned around.

"Good night," called Harry after him.

"Good night," he heard a voice far away, and listened as the footsteps slowly faded away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: Did you see that one coming? Please let me know in the comments!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter is longer than the previous two have been, but there is much more going on here anyways... There will be blood, so if you feel unsure at all, kindly escort yourself out. Please enjoy, and review !**

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 4<span>

Harry slept poorly. The dungeon floor wasn't nowhere near as comfortable as Draco's bed had been. However, it was impossible to get a sound night sleep with everything buzzing in his mind wildly. He was in form of a muggle wanted by Voldemort in the dungeon of Malfoys' Manor. His trial was two weeks away. He didn't know what to do. Draco had brought his breakfast to him before dawn and also a quite rich storage of Polyjuice Potion. Harry wished he had his cloak of invisibility with him, everything would be so much easier...

Harry was expecting the day to be as dull as yesterday had been, but it was soon for him to see that wasn't the case at all. Somewhere after sunrise (Harry had no clue of the time) Lucius Malfoy came to the cellar himself, looking as slimy as ever.

"You," he said softly, his wand pointing toward Harry who now got up from the floor, reserved. He felt naked without his wand. Before Harry was able to do anything, Lucius yelled: "_Imperio_!"

It hit him so suddenly Harry couldn't prevent it. Everything became light and easy in a blink of an eye, he felt omnipotent somehow. Life was careless. He heard Lucius' soothing voice, commanding him to follow. Of course he would follow, why not? This feeling was so refreshing, just what he had been craving for. And now this nice man had granted it to him.

Harry walked with Lucius out of the cellar upstairs to the dining hall. There he stood up on the table, he didn't know why but it felt completely natural. He noticed subconsciously that there was a woman accompanying them.

"Well, well," said the woman. Her voice was cold and mad, but Harry found it to be alright. "Lucius, isn't it a little unfair to have him under the Imperius Curse? Let's give him a chance to be himself."

"Why to bother, Bellatrix?" Lucius asked, rising a brow. "I want this to be done with fast."

"Now, Lucius, we have all the time in the world," said the woman. "Just for fun. I want him to be able to _feel _everything."

Lucius didn't look satisfied, but flicked his wand once and suddenly Harry felt like he had just met the table with a thump; and he actually had. He had fallen on his knees. The real world seemed very dark all of a sudden. He looked quickly around. There was the woman; she had heavy eyelids, curly long hair falling down her back and looked somewhat mental. She was standing behind the chair Harry had been sitting and eating last night. Lucius was standing at the other end of the table with his wife. Harry's gaze hit Draco who looked very uneasy standing near the wall. Harry locked eyes with him for couple of seconds until he turned his head back to the woman whom Lucius had called Bellatrix. Harry remembered distantly reading about her from the Daily Prophet some time ago... She was one of the prisoners in Azkaban.

"Let me be very clear," Bellatrix said as she approached Harry. "You answer me truthfully, and we can get this nicely done."

"Who are you?" Harry asked with his lazy muggle voice.

"_I_ ask the questions!" the woman shrieked and whipped her wand. Harry felt paralyzing pain in his left arm and took a quick look; his blouse had ripped and blood was streaming down from the open wound.

"Now," said Bellatrix. She looked like she was enjoying herself big time. "What's your name?"

"Simon Frost," said Harry hoarsely. The pain felt horribly strong; the muggle couldn't stand pain well as Harry himself did. Harry glanced at Draco who looked white but indifferent.

"_Simon Frost_?" Bellatrix shrieked and whipped her wand again with a sharp laugh; searing pain went through Harry's right thigh. "Strike one! What do you do for living?"

"I'm a dentist," Harry answered, keeping his voice steady regardless of the bleeding and the fact that he was screwed. Bellatrix knew the muggle. This time Harry was prepared for the strike, and quickly rolled aside when she whipped her wand. The curse hit the table, creating a deep scratch on its shiny surface. As soon as panting Harry rose his gaze to Bellatrix, he knew he had just made the biggest mistake of his life; her nostrils expanded from rage and she marched closer.

"Playing smart, are we now?" she screamed, her wand expanded. "You're soon about to wish you hadn't! _Crucio_!"

Pain like no other rushed through Harry's whole body. It seared his every cell, every single inch of his body. His body was twitching uncontrollably, he screamed his lungs out. The whole world felt suddenly so dark and unbearable, he wished he could just die... And as suddenly as it had began, it was over. Harry panted, everything was spinning around. He was shaking uncontrollably, and it was nearly impossible for him only to get on his knees. His gaze found Draco, whiter than ever, looking intensely at the floor, disgusted frown between his brows. Bellatrix, for one, looked very pleased with herself.

"Now, would you like to try again?" she asked and twirled the wand between her index finger and middle finger. Angry red sparks fell down from its tip. Harry couldn't even speak. He felt himself weaker than ever. His leg and arm were bleeding, his muscles still twitching from torturing. As he looked down on his hands, he noticed something strange; they were getting fairer and smaller. The Polyjuice Potion was starting to fail.

"Water," he croaked, glancing at Draco, but he wasn't even looking at him.

"What's that?" Bellatrix asked. Harry was careful not to look up in case his face had started changing as well.

"I don't feel too good. I need water to concentrate, I can't drink my own _blood_, can I?" Harry asked loudly, hoping Draco would catch the hint.

"Draco," said Lucius, "bring our quest some water."

Harry was praying he would hurry; he could feel his figure getting smaller, and he kept on shaking wildly so his shrinking would be harder to notice. It took painful ten seconds until Draco came with a black-dimmed glass and took it over to Harry, who almost thanked him, but inferred it to be inappropriate. The glass was black so it was impossible to know if it was water or if Draco indeed had got his clue, but there was no time for guessing; Harry rose the glass and wolfed the liquid down fast. It tasted mildly like honey and sudden warmth spread inside him; Draco had understood and brought him the crimson red liquid instead of water after all.

"Feeling better?" asked Bellatrix, as if she actually cared. "See, I wasn't very pleased with your answers. I'll give you one more shot."

"And if I fail," Harry said, feeling renewed due the Potion, "what will happen?"

"Well," said Bellatrix, little taken aback by the question, "that is not up to me but the Dark Lord."

"Who?" Harry asked; if he was a muggle, he might as well play his part correctly.

"_Who_? You _idiot_," Bellatrix hissed, whipped his wand and caused another cut on Harry's arm; now the two wounds formed the letter _V_. "The Dark Lord is only the most powerful wizard who ever lived and will be until eternity! But don't worry, you will have the great honor to meet him someday soon." Bellatrix laughed madly. "Now, to your final question. Where do you live and with who?"

"I live in Glasgow with my wife and our two daughters," Harry said steadily, staring at Bellatrix in the eye. He was sure she was going to hurt him again, but she didn't. She just stared back at Harry, Harry was able to see Lucius looking at Draco, who didn't look at anyone but the floor. They all looked as if Harry had just let the exact cure to cancer out of his mouth.

"Draco," said Lucius slowly with an odd tone, "take him back to the cellar."

Harry stumbled off the table and onto his feet which felt so weak and thin all of a sudden. He walked in front of Draco down to the dungeons without exchanging a word. Draco pushed Harry to his cell and locked the door. Then he glanced over his shoulder and then back at Harry.

"How did you know?" he whispered to Harry.

"Knew what? I guessed," Harry answered, then frowned. "How did _you _know? You said they didn't know anything of this man."

For a split second Draco looked a little uneasy. "I didn't, and they told me they don't know. It's obvious, isn't it, that you got it right? They thought you - the muggle - were going to lie."

"Who would lie if some Dark Lord was going to come for him if he did? Why were they so dazed?"

"How would I know," Draco answered a little annoyed. "I have to go, they'll get suspicious." He turned his back at Harry, took one step, then stopped. "And Harry..."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

Harry didn't answer. Draco walked away.

* * *

><p>A few days passed. Harry hardly saw Draco or anyone until it was already night and he had fallen asleep with his stomach growling. That night he woke up when someone whispered his name as loudly as one can whisper. Harry lifted his head from the floor and through the dark he saw Draco, carrying a bag in his right hand and a wand in his left.<p>

"Finally," Harry mumbled and got up to sitting position.

"Sorry. Dad was very nosy tonight," Draco said and opened the cell door. He put the bag down. "It's just bread, I couldn't get anything else," he explained when Harry looked at it hungrily. "How are your wounds?"

"Stopped bleeding, but still hurt a bit," Harry answered. It was a bit of a lie since they actually ached so badly he was tearing up if he just moved. Draco sat in front of him with his wand, studied the cuts.

"I can help you, I know couple of spells," he said. "Just don't move."

Harry didn't have anything against it, so Draco performed couple of spells. Harry watched how the cuts faded easily until there was only thin scratches left and the pain was almost nil.

"Thanks," Harry said, smiled a little. "But how can you do magic? Trying to get yourself into court as well?"

"It's Dad's wand," Draco answered vaguely and reached for the bag on the floor. "Court reminds me... If I were you, I would brace myself now."

"What?" Harry asked. Draco didn't say anything but handed him an exclusive extra of the _Daily Prophet_. Harry grasped it and read from the front page right under the headline "_POTTER WANTED BY THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_":

"_We previously reported that Harry Potter, 15, known as the Boy-Who-Lived, was supposed to face a trial due his actions which included performing a Patronus charm in the presence of a muggle. The trial was supposed to take place on August 12Th at 9 AM. However, due some misunderstandings in the Ministry of Magic, the trial date was reset on yesterday. According to the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, Potter was informed about the change by a letter, but failed to show up in court._

_We weren't able to reach Fudge, but Dolores Umbridge, who describes herself as Fudge's right hand, was able to give commentary._

"_Mr. Fudge is extremely busy nowadays," Ms. Umbridge told us. "Mr. Potter is certainly not helping himself at all. His most recent act showcased his dismissive attitude toward the whole Ministry."_

_Umbridge says Potter, who has a very suspicious reputation left from Triwizard Tournament, will face very serious consequences._

"_Mr. Potter is obviously mentally unstable. He is certain he-who-must-not-be-named is back, which, as the Ministry has clearly stated, is a false rumour. Now that he failed to show up in court - considering the seriousness of this trial; he might lose his wand - we are quite positive he is not right in the head and possibly dangerous. That is why the Ministry has now launched a nation-wide search in order to catch him."_

_Dolores Umbridge reveals there to be a great prize waiting for whomever brings Mr. Potter to the Ministry. Read more about the exclusive interview from tomorrow's Daily Prophet."_

Harry finished reading and rose his gaze up to Draco, who looked extremely uneasy.

"But - I didn't even know about it!" Harry stated the obvious. "Why didn't I get an owl?"

"Because you're here," Draco said silently, not being able to look at him. "There are only marked few owls who can deliver to this house, because of some might deliver letters which contain spying spells. That's necessary, because Dad is... you know."

Harry felt like the truth couldn't sink in. He turned his gaze on the stone floor. Suddenly he wasn't hungry or tired. Suddenly he wasn't eager to get out of there anymore, yet he didn't want to sit there either. He didn't know what to do. Only thing he noticed was the strange bubbling feeling when his figure started to change from his muggle form back to Harry. Neither one of them said anything for a while until the silence became pressuring.

"What should I do?" Harry asked quietly after his transformation was complete. He had never missed Hermione and her rational advice so much.

"We'll figure something out," Draco promised though he too sounded very unsure.

"No, we don't," Harry muttered. "Voldemort is chasing me, now the Ministry is on my heels as well. There isn't any place in the whole world where I could hide without either one of those taking notice of me."

"You have done pretty good job so far, haven't you?" Draco said and got up. Harry shrugged.

"Guess so."

Draco looked uneasy again. "I'm... you know... really sorry, Harry. This is all happening because of me."

"No. It's happening because of _me_. Don't blame yourself," Harry said, sounding much too noble and hypocritical. For some reason he wanted to blame Draco. He wanted to blame him for everything; Draco was the one who forced him to stay, to take the Polyjuice Potion, to bear the torturing and bleeding. And for what? For this moment, a moment when Harry had surely lost his wand for good? Yet it was not Draco's fault. He did not know this was going to happen. No one did. He had only wanted to help.

"Here," Draco said and took a bottle of clear Polyjuice Potion under his cloak. "You better turn back to your muggle-form again."

Harry nodded as an agreement and stood up from the floor. It felt odd to be himself, a weak and skinny teenager when he had already gotten used to Simon Frost's massive body. Harry knew Simon Frost was not the muggle's real name, but it would have felt soulless to call him just "a muggle" after all the time Harry had spend being him.

Harry walked to the cabinet which was just a ridiculously small room for bathing equipment (two empty barrels and a moldy toilet brush), and Frost looked quite uncomfortable as he was lying unconscious there. Draco had made him drink potion a couple nights ago which was supposed to keep him unconscious for a good while. Harry ripped a hair from his head and dropped it to the liquid which transformed itself to crimson red. Harry gulped it down and handed the empty tiny bottle back to Draco. Draco watched him transform and turned away.

"I better get going, my father will start doubting what's taking me so long," he said. Harry nodded, though he once again felt sorry to see him go. When he had declined Ron's offer to come stay in the Burrow in order to come to Malfoy's Manor, Harry had not wished to sit in the cellar, waiting for his bitter end. He had come to spend time with his distant secret friend whose company was hard to get. But now he rarely even saw that blond, other than for couple of minutes when he brought him dinner and breakfast.

"Tomorrow morning I'll get you something good," Draco promised as he closed the gate. Harry laughed hoarsely; it had been a while since he had laughed even a bit. And now he didn't have time to laugh, either, when footsteps ran downstairs to the cellar and Lucius Malfoy stopped behind Draco, wearing a long dark cloak which was thought as fancy clothes in wizard world.

"What are you doing here, son?" asked Lucius and his nostrils expanded an inch of rage as he glared at Harry who walked back to his usual place and sat down. "The piece of litter here isn't bothering you, is he?"

"No, father," Draco answered, looked down at Harry so contemptuously one could actually have thought the feeling to be sincere. "I just brought him some old bread."

"Very well, then," said Lucius and landed his hand on Draco's shoulder, still staring at Harry. "Eat slowly, because that is your last meal."

That was a sentence Harry found really alarming, but he didn't let it show. "How do you reckon, sir?" he asked calmly with his Scottish accent. Lucius only sneered.

"Well, we have a sort of _gathering_," he said, smiling nastily. "And you, my filthy friend, have the honor to be a part of it."

"Dad," Draco said calmly, but his eyes which were on Harry were filled with terror.

"Draco," Lucius interrupted and let go of his shoulder. "Go upstairs. The Dark Lord is coming."

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: Want continuation? Reviews are deeply appreciated!**


End file.
